


The Midnight Clear

by doctorhelena



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Childbirth, Christmas, F/M, First Kiss, Howling Commandos - Freeform, Steggy Week 2019, Wartime Steggy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 08:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19849564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorhelena/pseuds/doctorhelena
Summary: An unexpectedly dramatic Christmas Eve in occupied France.





	The Midnight Clear

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for Day 3 of Steggy Week 2019 (Firsts and Lasts).

It was cold and clear, and everyone was in good spirits - they were less than two miles from the extraction point, and from there a week’s leave in London just in time for Christmas. Layers of frost dusted their hair and eyebrows, their breath swirled in clouds around them, and ice crystals danced in the air. “You look very distinguished with all that white,” Peggy told Dugan, and he made a face at her.

“Rather like Father Christmas without the beard,” put in Falsworth, from behind Steve.

Bucky snorted, before turning to scan the road ahead. “If Dum Dum here was Santa, everyone would bar their doors on Christmas Eve.”

“Well, that would be pretty stupid,” said Dugan, “since I’d be going down the chimney.”

Peggy grinned at him, the setting sun illuminating her face in a way that was so mesmerizing that Steve nearly crashed right into Bucky, who'd stopped dead very suddenly in front of him.

“Steve, you hear something up ahead?”

Steve listened too, trying, as usual, not to think too hard about why Buck could possibly have heard the faint voices and even fainter crunch of snow. “It’s just two people,” he said, slowly. “Ahead of us, moving in the same direction we are. Speaking French. I can’t tell - ” 

“I’ll go,” said Peggy quietly, and Steve nodded, watching her slip into the woods beside the path. They waited, hands on weapons, until she returned, silent as a cat, the snow barely squeaking beneath her boots.

“They’re not a threat.” she said, her nose and cheeks pink with cold, and possibly something else. She looked angry. “But there’s a chance they may have the local Wehrmacht after them.”

Steve had already calculated how much time they could afford to lose and still make their rendezvous. “You want to make sure they get away safely,” he said, and she nodded, something fierce in her gaze.

“How many soldiers?” asked Bucky. “And how far behind?”

Peggy shook her head. “We'll have to ask them. They may not know themselves.” 

“Okay,” said Steve, “well, let’s see what we can do.”

They sent Peggy ahead again, Bucky covering her from the treeline as she approached the couple, gloved hands raised. Steve watched as she spoke with them in low tones and then smiled as the woman exclaimed and pulled the woolen scarf away from her face. As the three turned to greet Steve and the others, he was startled to see that she was enormously pregnant.

“This is Colette,” said Peggy, gesturing with a sweep of her arm. “As it turns out, I worked with her briefly, when I was with the SOE - she’s in the French Resistance, along with Jean-Marc.” She gestured at Colette’s companion, then looked at Steve soberly. "A member of their cell has been discovered and captured by the Wehrmacht. If he’s still alive, it's almost certain he’s being tortured as we speak. He’ll have been trained to try to hold out for 24 hours to give the others a chance to escape, but it’s entirely possible he’ll break sooner. Jean-Marc is on his way to join up with a maquis group in the mountains, after he escorts Colette to her rendezvous point. She's to be smuggled into relative safety for the time being, for obvious reasons. Colette, these are - they’re allies.”

Colette blinked at Steve and spoke, in accented but relatively fluent-sounding English. “You are Captain America."

Steve nodded. "I am. Do you think you've been followed?"

"Not followed," she said, soberly. "But they may still come after us. I am not fast, and it is easy to follow tracks in the snow."

Dugan gestured to Jean-Marc, and then the sweeping curve of Colette's belly. "He the father?"

Both Colette and Jean-Marc blinked. "No!" she said, her eyes wide. "He is my brother." Peggy gave her a sideways look, and Colette turned pink. "Yes," she said. “The father is who you are thinking, Marguerite. He was evacuated to England before I realized, and I don’t know - I hope to contact him once I am safe in Switzerland.”

Peggy bit her lip. "You'll find that rather difficult, you know. But I can try to pass on a message." 

Jean-Marc was peering anxiously into the darkness behind them, and Steve cleared his throat. “We need to keep moving. Where are you meeting your contact?”

Jean-Marc answered in French too fast for Steve to follow. Dernier frowned and Peggy turned to Steve. “They have considerably farther to go than we do. And we have an aeroplane.” She raised her eyebrows. 

Bucky snorted. “Carter, you’re the SSR liaison. You’ll be the one who has to explain this to Phillips after he has a heart attack.”

Peggy shrugged. “We’re assisting an ally, with useful skills and information, who has run into difficulties in the service of duty. And furthermore, she’s carrying the child of a British operative. Forgiveness will not be as difficult to obtain as permission.”

“Well, isn’t that our motto?” asked Dugan cheerfully, and there were grins all around.

“All right,” said Steve, decisively. “Colette, we can’t help with Switzerland, but we can give you a ride to London.”

Colette considered only briefly before nodding. “Thank you, yes.”

He locked eyes with Peggy for a moment too long, then cleared his throat. “What’s going to happen when they don’t show up at their rendezvous?”

Colette was watching Peggy and Steve, a slight, knowing smirk passing across her face before she sobered again. “They will assume the worst,” she said. “But Jean-Marc can tell them I will not be coming. He will be much faster alone.” She gestured ruefully at the intrusive bulk of her belly.

Steve straightened. “All right, we need to get moving. Jones, take point. Morita, walk with Colette, make sure she’s okay. The rest of you, fall in with them. Peggy and I will catch up as soon as she explains the situation to Jean-Marc.”

Colette reached out and hugged her brother, whispered something into his ear. They clasped hands and exchanged a double cheek kiss, and then she turned to follow Jones along the path into the growing darkness. Her pace was as slow as she’d warned it would be, and Steve wondered if it might make more sense to split up, send someone ahead to meet Howard. Peggy was deep in conversation with Jean-Marc, who finally nodded and slipped quickly up the path.

“There’s a good chance they may not have been missed yet,” said Peggy, watching him go, “but we’ll need to stay vigilant.”

Steve turned to her, their faces suddenly very close together in the dying light. Neither moved for a long, weighted moment, and then Steve cleared his throat and stepped back slightly. “With any luck, we’ll be long gone before anyone comes looking.” 

Peggy looked at him soberly. "We also need to consider the possibility that Colette has been turned under torture, or some sort of threat to her child. There’s no need to treat her as an enemy, but she'll need to be fully debriefed before she's set free in London, baby or no baby."

Steve nodded. The Commandos knew better than to spill classified information, even to an ally, but he'd have to have a quiet word with Howard before they got on the plane.

Peggy looked like she might be about to say something else, but then she took a step back too, hand briefly resting on her rifle, and nodded. They turned up the path and hurried to catch up with the others.

It was slow going. “Are you okay to keep going?” Morita asked Colette after about a mile, and she nodded, nearly too out of breath to speak.

“I am all right. The baby does not leave very much room for my lungs.”

“Let’s send a couple of people ahead to meet Howard and bring back a stretcher from the plane,” said Steve, and Peggy nodded, glancing behind them.

“I don’t particularly want to get into a firefight, and we certainly need to take off before morning,” she said.

“I would not object to a stretcher,” said Colette. “I know I am far too slow.”

“I’ll go,” volunteered Jones, and Steve nodded.

“Take Dernier with you. Stay vigilant.” The two nodded and disappeared into the darkness ahead. “We’ll slow down a bit more,” Steve told the rest of them.

Peggy moved up to walk beside Colette, offering her arm as Morita took over point from Jones. The two women chatted quietly in French, and Steve suspected that Peggy was keeping Colette talking on purpose, making sure she could breathe easily enough to keep going. 

He could sympathize. For entirely different reasons, he could hardly breathe himself sometimes when he was with Peggy.

He’d never told her so, nor had she made any declarations to him. But they had an understanding, a mutual longing that expressed itself in glances and tiny touches and small unguarded moments, so that he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that it wasn’t just him. But right now, in the middle of a war, it just wasn’t - 

He blinked at her. She was suddenly looking closer to panic than he’d seen her in quite some time, although he suspected he could only see it because he knew her so well. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Her voice was steady, betraying none of the apprehension he could see in her eyes. “Colette,” she said, carefully. “I’ve noticed that you’re having difficulty speaking at quite regular intervals.”

It took Steve a second to realize what she was implying, and then he felt a jolt of panic too. 

“It is nothing to worry about,” said Colette, firmly. “They are false contractions. It is normal, because of the exercise.”

Morita turned back, looking worried. “I hope so. I can’t say I know a lot about delivering babies.”

“Well, Dernier and Jones should be back with the stretcher pretty soon,” said Dugan, peering into the darkness ahead of them.

“And you think they know a lot about delivering babies?” asked Morita, eyebrows raised.

Colette shook her head. “Nobody will have to deliver a baby. I am not that close to my time.”

But now that Peggy had pointed it out, Steve couldn’t help but notice the distinct pattern to the hitches in Colette’s breath, the set of her jaw. The way Peggy caught her breath too, as if Colette were painfully tightening her grip.

“They’re getting closer together,” he said, after he was sure.

Colette took a slow breath. “Maybe,” she admitted.

“Okay,” said Steve. He exchanged a panicked look with Bucky. Where were Jones and Dernier with that stretcher? 

“It’s all right,” said Peggy, her voice calm and steady. “Morita is a medic, and I’ve had some training as a nurse, although I admit it was considerably more focused on wounds than on babies.” She glanced behind them, and Steve did too, but there was still no sign of pursuit.

Colette suddenly stopped walking entirely, clutching Peggy with both hands and breathing hard through her teeth. "Oh, that could not have been a false contraction” she said, once she could speak again. She looked a little panicked now too.

“All right,” said Peggy, still calmly. “I think - I think it’s sometimes possible to stop things, early on. Ideally, you would lie down and not be jostled about, but under the circumstances…” she looked at Steve. “Could you carry her?”

“Yeah,” he said, looking at Colette for permission. She nodded and passed her pack to Peggy. Steve bent down and scooped Colette up, one hand under her knees, the other around her back. She looped her arms around his neck to help support herself. 

“Your man is very strong,” Colette said to Peggy, her dimples showing, before she took in a sudden sharp breath and turned her face into Steve’s chest. He met Peggy’s eyes and was not reassured.

\-----

They ran into Jones and Dernier just as they came out into the clearing that was supposed to be the rendezvous point. “Stark’s not here yet,” Jones reported, his eyes widening at the sight of Colette clutching Steve’s neck, panting.

“So help me, if the man has stopped off for a fondue in Lucerne...” muttered Peggy. She watched Colette for a moment. “It’s all right,” she said. “Howard is the best civilian pilot we have. He’ll be here. And we should still have plenty of time.” She laid her hand on Colette’s arm. “I’m afraid that first babies generally take quite a while to put in their appearance.”

Steve made a visual sweep of the clearing. It was large, long enough to land Howard’s plane as planned, and there was a dark shape at the other end that looked like a building. “What’s that?” he asked Jones, gesturing with his chin.

“Farmhouse. Bombed out, pretty badly.” said Jones. He looked at Colette, who was breathing easily again. “Barn’s standing, though.”

Steve nodded. “Let’s see what it’s like inside. Maybe you could lie down while we wait,” he added to Colette, who nodded.

Peggy smiled at her. “It’s still entirely possible this might stop of its own accord if you aren’t being jostled about so much.” She turned to the others. “Check out the farmhouse. See if they have any usable blankets.” She leaned in to Bucky and murmured more quietly, “and pots and pans. Water. We’ll need a fire.”

The barn was mostly empty, but all four walls and the roof were standing, and it was considerably warmer out of the wind. They made a passable bed out of blankets spread on hay, and then Peggy and Morita settled Colette down on her side. “Just stay still,” said Peggy, squeezing her arm. “With any luck Howard will be here shortly and you’ll be in London by morning, seeing a real doctor.”

With Peggy and Morita attending to their patient, Steve set Bucky and Dum Dum on watch, giving himself and the rest of them the task of gathering wood and then building a fire and boiling a pot of water, hoping to hell they weren’t actually going to need to sterilize anything. He was watching the crackling flames when Peggy came out of the barn.

“Where the hell is Howard?” she asked, glaring up at the dark sky. “I’m going to kill him. We need more blankets.”

“I’ll look for blankets,” offered Jones, taking a flashlight and picking his way into the ruined farmhouse. “Afraid I can’t help you with Stark, though.”

“How’s she doing?” asked Steve, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer. 

In the darkness next to the barn, Peggy leaned against him slightly, just for a moment, and breathed. “Her waters have broken,” she said finally, pulling away and setting her shoulders. “I don’t think there’s any stopping it now.”

He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Howard will get here. And in the meantime, she’s in good hands with you and Morita.”

Peggy shook her head. “Neither of us know the first thing about delivering a baby, Steve.” She took a deep breath and set her shoulders, releasing his hand. “Here’s Gabe with the blankets.” 

\-----

Howard arrived three hours late, landing precisely and carefully between the goosenecks the men had laid out. “Sorry,” he said, once he’d taxied to a stop and opened the door. “Ran into some company, had to go the long way ‘round. Hop in. We should still be able to make the Channel before first light.”

“Can’t,” said Steve.

Howard frowned. “Why not?” He looked around. “Where’s Peggy?”

“In the barn with Morita,” said Dugan. “You don’t know anything about delivering babies, do you?”

Howard’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “God, no. Why would - ” He turned to Steve. “Is there something you haven’t mentioned, pal?” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Never mind, pretty sure I would have noticed.”

Peggy poked her head out of the barn. “It’s about bloody time you arrived, Howard.” She turned to Steve. “We’ll want to get the stretcher ready, but it’s rather too late to move her at this point. The head is nearly - ”

“Carter!” called Morita, urgently, from inside, and she disappeared again.

\-----

It wasn’t much longer. Afterwards, as Peggy and Morita muttered quietly in the barn about placentas and stitches, Steve sat cradling the tiny baby by the fire, tucked inside his jacket for warmth. “Looks good on you, Cap,” said Dugan, with a grin, and Howard raised his eyebrows. “Better you than me, pal.”

Peggy had poked her head out once to request more boiling water so that she could sterilize a needle for stitches. Now she emerged from the barn, looking greatly relieved. “You can bring her back in now. Colette wants to see her, and we’re ready to go once they’re both loaded onto the stretcher.”

“What was that you said about first babies taking a long time?” Dugan asked her. “Plenty of time to get to London?”

Peggy shrugged, her teeth chattering a little in the cold. She looked wet, Steve thought, and realized that she’d probably just scrubbed off a decent amount of blood. “This one was impatient, it seems” she said, still shivering. “We were very lucky nothing went wrong.”

Dugan held out his arms for the baby. “Here, let Uncle Dum Dum take her in.” He took her from Steve with a surprisingly practiced motion, then flicked his eyes significantly towards Peggy who, now that everything was over, was looking a little shell-shocked.

Peggy took a slow, slightly unsteady breath as the others disappeared into the barn, except Bucky, who sat with his rifle, staring intently into the darkness in the direction of the path. Steve stood up and patted the barn wall beside him. “You look tired. And cold.”

“I am,” she admitted, stepping closer and leaning against the barn wall next to him. She let out a slow puff of air, her warm breath swirling around her. “If anything had gone wrong, none of us would have known what to do. It could all so easily have gone sideways.” 

Steve nodded. His mother had been a nurse, he’d overheard heard terrible, heartbreaking stories. “But it didn’t,” he said, simply. He reached down to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “And you know what? You and Morita just delivered a baby in a stable on Christmas Eve.”

“I suppose we did,” she said, her lips quirking upward for a moment before she shivered again. “And Colette was very brave. But there are certainly no angels proclaiming peace on earth tonight.” 

Steve wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “We’re all doing our best to fix that. And I think you and Morita make pretty good angels.” She snorted, but snuggled in a little closer, relaxing into his embrace. They both looked upward at the stars.

The night was absolutely clear, the sky heavy with stars and the glowing sweep of the Milky Way. Steve looked down at Peggy, who was still gazing upwards, her face unguarded, beautiful. HYDRA, the war, and every other reason for waiting to kiss her seemed suddenly far away and insignificant. And after all, it was an evening for miracles.

He brushed his fingers along her jaw and she turned her face to him, surprised but not unwelcoming. He leaned in, slowly, and she went up on tiptoe to meet him, just a tiny kiss, a brush of his lips against hers.

“Steve - ” she breathed, without moving, soft and warm. I love you, he thought, the words poised on the tip of his tongue, but before he could say it out loud she pressed forward and deepened the kiss, and he suddenly had far more pressing things to do with his mouth.

The war was far from over, and they were all probably in for a hell of a lecture once they got to London with their two unexpected passengers. But in this moment, this clear, cold midnight, Peggy was warm and alive in his arms and nothing else mattered.


End file.
